


The Names Given

by merulanoir



Series: We Name Each Other [5]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: A series of oneshots, Basically whenever I get a headcanon about the WNEO series I'll dump the ficlet here, Don't copy to another site, Gen, M/M, Post-Series, Pre-Series, Read individual notes for further info and incoherent rambling, slices of life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-04 07:56:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17300777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merulanoir/pseuds/merulanoir
Summary: Oneshots set in the We Name Each Other verse. Slices of life, views into what was and what will be, and tying off loose ends.Please read the individual notes for each chapter. The overall rating is explicit, but the chapters deal with different themes. All previous works in the series are referenced here.





	1. As long as you'll have me

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, as anyone following me on Twitter probably knows, my head is still well and truly stuck in this modern AU. Instead of fighting it, I decided to write ficlets to deal with the ~feelings~, and I will post them all under this title. c:
> 
> The first chapter picks up where The Breath We Took left us. Angst and such ahead.

Regis stayed awake long after Dettlaff had fallen asleep. His head was still pounding with the migraine that had followed in the footsteps of the discussion. He had his medicine at home, and since he had been expecting to go there tonight, he hadn’t bothered to take them along. He had known how the inevitable talk would go and how it would make him react, and after that he would go home and be alone again.

Only, he was currently curled around Dettlaff, in his bed.

Regis brushed a kiss against Dettlaff’s brow and rubbed his eyes. They felt puffy and sore, and they would look dreadful in the morning. It was inconsequential. He watched the younger man’s eyes flicker beneath his eyelids, and tried to grasp the reality. He was still here.

_ They had been together for one month, three weeks, and six days before Regis cracked. During that time his heart had been full, and he had been so happy he didn’t know what to do with all those feelings. That happiness had festered inside him; he didn’t deserve the love he was receiving, or the gentle, shy smiles Dettlaff threw at him across the campus cafeteria. He had been such a worthless excuse of a human being when he had been younger, and Dettlaff didn’t know that when he reached for Regis’ hand, he was in fact touching a killer. _

_ So Regis asked to meet, and Dettlaff’s voice went small and uncertain when they agreed on a time over the phone. Regis was not able to keep his worry from bleeding into his tone, and Dettlaff heard it. Regis spent the rest of the day unable to work, because his chest was tight with dread, balking at the possibility of letting the ugliness inside him spill free. He paced his office, trying to formulate sentences and then rejected everything because how could he even think about presenting his past as anything that could be defended? _

_ And if he was completely honest with himself, his heart was shattering at the thought of losing Dettlaff. Regis had let himself fall in love, and only some semblance of common sense had prevented him from blurting the words out before now. He had very nearly said them when he had kissed Dettlaff for the first time, because what else could make him ache so viciously? _

_ The younger man was like a breath of fresh air inside his heart and soul, and now Regis was choosing to drive him away. He would give up the slow mornings, when Dettlaff was making them coffee and his hair was a nest of sleepy curls; as well as the nights when Regis felt need crawl under his skin, and which always ended up in him gasping for air and so, so glad to drown in this. _

Dettlaff made a sound as he turned on his back, settling into deeper sleep. Regis listened to him breath slowly, and let his fingertips trace the heartbeat fluttering beneath them. His body was hurting because of the tension and adrenaline, and working them out took time. Regis snuggled closer, pressing his nose against Dettlaff’s cheek and closed his eyes.

_ Dettlaff opened the door to his apartment, and his eyes were so scared. He had clearly been expecting Regis to come tell this had all been a mistake; that maybe they should be just friends, or something along those lines. Regis’ heart was rebelling, trying to prevent him from doing anything that would hurt Dettlaff, but he knew he would ruin this sooner or later. Better to ruin it now, before neither party became too attached. _

_ (Regis knew he was lying to himself: he would keep bleeding after this, because even if he didn’t want to, he was in love: for the first and last time in his life.) _

_ Regis sat down in the kitchen, and as Dettlaff had started to make tea – just to have something to do with his hands, it seemed – he let the words come. He started at the beginning, how he had fallen so deep into his drug habit getting out became impossible; how it spiraled out of control, leaving him alone and hurting. When he finally he got to that horrible night at the emergency room, his voice cracked and he crumbled under the weight, because he knew this was the moment when he broke the best thing he had ever had.. _

_ Dettlaff had been leaning against the counter as he listened, tea forgotten and his pale eyes wide. When Regis finally broke down and confessed the rest, Dettlaff was by his side in a second, kneeling on the floor and cupping Regis’ face, trying to comfort him. Regis attempted to pull back, so sick with himself and so, so tired of hurting, but Dettlaff didn’t let him go. _

_ The stubborn, irritating, loving man dragged Regis onto his sofa and then held him as he choked and sobbed; a decade of shame and horrible, biting sorrow started to flow out, and Regis was startled to discover he had never allowed himself to mourn. Not before now. _

_ When Regis was finally able to draw in a breath without feeling like he would drown, Dettlaff kissed him, deep and slow, and still refused to let him leave. They stayed on the sofa, wrapped around each other, and Dettlaff held him, murmuring soothing words. _

_ Regis pulled back a fraction, and tried to explain it once more; that he was broken, and didn’t deserve any form of kindness to begin with, and that he definitely didn’t deserve Dettlaff. _

_ Dettlaff listened to him ramble, and only when the words ran out and Regis’ head started to feel dizzy, had he spoken; still calm, and articulating with such profound sadness Regis was momentarily taken aback. _

“ _ It’s not about what we deserve,” Dettlaff said, holding onto Regis. His eyes were sad, but no longer panicked. “It’s just life, there is no rhyme or reason to how these things go.” He sighed, lost in some memory of his own for a while. Regis reached for Dettlaff’s hand, and the man took it without hesitation. _

“ _ You make me happier than I have ever been,” he continued, and Regis’ breath had caught in his throat. “I’ve been trying to prevent myself saying how much in love I am, because it feels too soon to feel this deeply, but here we are.” _

_ A rush of tenderness threatened to overwhelm Regis when he understood the words. Dettlaff met his eyes, looking almost defiant. “This doesn’t change anything regarding that.” _

_ Regis bit his lip until he tasted blood and then he leaned on Dettlaff, feeling wrung out and empty. Dettlaff pressed a kiss to his hair. _

“ _ Oh, to hell with it,” Regis said after a moment’s silence, deciding that he needed to be honest. “I nearly said I was in love with you when I barged in and kissed you, after your thesis defense.” _

_ Dettlaff smiled, his eyes glistening. He looked so relieved, and Regis knew he needed to ask about it sometime in the future; no one should look like they had been granted amnesty upon hearing those words. _

_ Dettlaff refused to let Regis leave. _

Regis woke up early the next day. A thin gash of light through the heavy curtains illuminated the room. He knew Dettlaff had trouble sleeping, so he wasn’t surprised when his lover stirred as soon as he moved. Dettlaff perpetually had dark circles under his eyes, and they looked like bruises in the warm glow of a June morning. He smiled and snuggled closer when he saw Regis was awake, and there was contentedness in the gesture. They settled into the embrace, both awake but not ready to talk just yet.

Regis felt like he deserved none of this, but at the same time he was becoming aware of the reality. He had initiated the stumble into this relationship, and despite everything that had been revealed, Dettlaff had said he was falling in love. His heart had carved out a place for Regis, and the doctor knew his was undergoing a similar process. Regis was at least partially responsible for Dettlaff’s happiness, and he wanted to carry it. He didn’t want to lose this.

“ I’m not going to leave,” Regis said in a sleep-rough voice. “As long as you’ll have me, I’ll stay with you.”

Dettlaff drew in a breath and pulled back. His face was open, and despite looking exhausted his eyes filled with happiness. Regis felt fingers play in his hair, and they stared at each other for a long while. Disbelieving joy was rushing through Regis, as he tried to hold on to the facts: he would stay, and he would do everything in his power to ensure Dettlaff was happy. He didn’t deserve to be loved, but he would take it nonetheless, if only to see that adoration wash over his lover’s features and soften the persistent sorrow he seemed to carry.

“ So we’re together?” Dettlaff asked. His voice was deep, but the remaining uncertainty made him look younger. They had not discussed this earlier, and Regis knew why: they hadn’t know how, because they were both feeling equally lost. Now it seemed almost absurd, because there really wasn’t any other alternative.

“ Yes,” Regis smiled. “Although I’m certain I’m much too old to be called anyone’s boyfriend.”

Dettlaff rolled his eyes, but he was grinning, giddy with relief. He rolled on his back and dragged Regis with him. Regis melted against him as he leaned in for a kiss.

It started out sweet and relieved, but in a few minutes Regis found himself sucking kisses to Dettlaff’s neck, for once not caring whether he left marks. He was overcome with a wish to hold all of this in the palm of his hand, and to make sure he would never lose it. He wanted to give Dettlaff everything he had, and the only thing Regis did possess in abundance was patience.

Regis bit Dettlaff’s collarbone harder than before, and instead of asking him to stop, the younger man arched into it and let out a sharp cry. Regis could feel how Dettlaff’s cock twitched against his hip at it, and a long-abandoned desire flared up inside him. It had slumbered for years, ignored but never forgotten. Even when illuminated against his youth, this was something that had always been his, and his only. The roots went so deep there was no telling where, when, and how it had begun. Regis had always adored the instances when he was granted control, and he could devote his being to the sole goal of making his partner feel good.

Regis brushed his lips against the reddening skin as he tried to pull back; he couldn’t just barge into this. As he drew in breath after breath, Dettlaff looked up at him. His eyes were confused and hungry.

“ Can you- Can you do that again?”

“ Hurt you?” Regis asked. For once, his inborn shyness didn’t kick in. He could tell these matters needed to be talked about without embellishments.

Dettlaff blushed. He bit his lip as he tried to look away, but Regis didn’t let him. He hooked a hand behind Dettlaff’s head and held him in place.

“ I can, but we need to be on the same page. Have you done this before?”

Dettlaff shook his head, eyes wide. Regis pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His body was relaxing, and an old, long-yearned calm was washing through him. Dettlaff’s eyes were eager and trusting, and the sight of him made Regis’ body hum with arousal. Something that had been bleeding for years started to heal in that moment.

“ Do you want me to hurt you?” Regis asked. “Do you want to give up control for a while?”

Dettlaff swallowed heavily. His arms stayed around Regis as he nodded.

Regis bent down to kiss him, hard. He thrust his tongue into Dettlaff’s mouth, for once just to take what he wanted, and the man opened up under him. Dettlaff whimpered, holding on to him, and when Regis wrapped a hand around his cock he could feel how desperate his lover was. He bit down again, and as Dettlaff cried out and thrust into his hand, Regis felt his smile stretch wider. Everything narrowed down into the moment, and the one after that. He continued stroking and biting, until he could tell Dettlaff was getting close.

“ Regis, Regis, would you-” Dettlaff panted out, and Regis drew back. His lover was flushed, and his eyes were dark with pleasure. Regis knew where Dettlaff was, could tell he was deep inside his own head, in that hazy heaven where only feelings mattered.

“ Full sentences, love,” Regis breathed out on a whim, deciding to take this that much further. He bit down on Dettlaff’s nipple, and smiled at the shocked gasp and the trickle of precome he felt between his fingers.

Dettlaff gasped for air, and Regis dug his blunt fingernails into his hip, drawing out another shuddering breath.

“ You either talk to me in proper sentences, or not at all.”

A soft keen escaped Dettlaff’s mouth. He drew in a breath, and Regis relented a touch, allowing him to gather his wits.

“ I want you to fuck me,” Dettlaff breathed.

Regis stilled, watching him. He was remotely aware of holding Dettlaff down and watching him shudder apart under his hands, but everything else was lost inside a rush of adoration he held for this man.

They had been experimenting during the weeks they had been together. Touching each other was still new and exciting, and doubly so because their nerves bled into it; Regis had discovered he loved kissing Dettlaff until he was hard and shivering, and then sucking him off slowly. Dettlaff had been equally enthusiastic about the act, and they had slowly become accustomed to having sex with each other.

Taking it one step further had been whispered about. In moments of heat, both of them had felt the curiosity claw at them, because eventually it would happen. Regis had brushed his fingers against Dettlaff’s entrance when he was giving head, and the reaction had been instantaneous; the last time he had applied a bit of pressure, his lover had come like he had been hit, bucking into his mouth and telling Regis everything he had wanted to know.

Regis watched Dettlaff for a second longer. The indecision vanished as soon as he was able to think clearly, because at this moment this was all about taking care of his love.

“ Not right now,” Regis said. The role fell away for the moment, and Dettlaff seemed to pull back, too. “One thing at a time.”

Dettlaff’s face turned from confusion to laughter, then. He covered his mouth, but there was suddenly something unstrained about him, and Regis leaned over him to cup his cheek.

“ Are you alright?”

Dettlaff nodded, still smiling. “Sorry. I got carried away. You managed to keep such a level head, right now.”

Regis lied back down and tugged him closer. He knew there was no script to making love, and he would gladly abandon the heat in favor of the kind of intimacy he was feeling right now.

“ I have done this before. If you permit me to take the dominant role, it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”

The one thing Regis knew he hadn’t ever fucked up was this. He would not,  _ could _ not, dominate anyone without them being able to trust him. The idea of taking advantage of such a situation had always made him sick to his core. It was part of the reason it had been so many years since the last time.

Dettlaff relaxed into his hug. It seemed unconscious.

“ You make me want… things I haven’t ever considered,” he confessed. “And this feels different from just having sex, somehow.”

“ It is different.” Regis watched him closely, but he was feeling safe to discuss this. Their sweat was cooling, and they were content to stay tangled together in the rumpled sheets. “Playing is just another thing to enjoy, but it needs clear rules to be safe.”

“ Such as?”

“ Safewords,” Regis smiled. “And just plain old discussions about what each party likes.”

Dettlaff smiled back, but his eyes were alight with curiosity.

“ A safeword lets me know when you don’t want to go further, or wish me to stop,” Regis said after a while. Dettlaff nodded, and his face turned thoughtful.

“ So, something I wouldn’t say by accident?” he asked, and Regis frowned.

“ So you do wish to continue?”

“ Yeah,” Dettlaff said at once, and then he grinned. A hint of redness colored his cheeks. “You do this so naturally, and I like it. A lot.”

Regis chuckled. A worried knot was unwinding inside him, one he hadn’t been aware of. He had wished for a chance to reclaim this side of himself, and now Dettlaff was offering it to him. Willingly, enthusiastically, and seemingly unaware of how monumental it all was.

It could be spoken about at a later time.

“ Prometheus.” Dettlaff’s voice pulled Regis back. His lover was looking at him eagerly. “I can’t help but be a bit… sentimental about this,” he added, biting his lip again when Regis didn’t answer right away.

Regis surged in to kiss him, holding him close as his heart felt like it would burst. He would do everything in his power to keep this, and to make sure Dettlaff was happy.

“ I love you,” he whispered into the kiss. “Just like you are.”

Dettlaff’s breath hitched at the words, and Regis pressed him down. Cool, loving focus slipped into place, and in that moment nothing else existed. Regis bent down again, and as he licked Dettlaff into his mouth, he dragged nails down his sides. Light at first, but after a few attempts Dettlaff managed to form a full sentence and ask for more. The next sweep left angry, red lines in its wake, and Regis felt how deeply tension coiled inside Dettlaff, then. He grew harder inside Regis’ mouth, sinking ever deeper into his submission, and then it was only the matter of providing just enough pleasure to keep Dettlaff on edge.

When Regis finally abandoned dragging his nails down Dettlaff’s skin and sucked him harder, his lover fell apart and came with a sob, spasming and shuddering all over. Fingers buried themselves into Regis’ hair and gripped tight, and he kept sucking until Dettlaff went slack.

Regis gathered him close immediately after. He knew what to expect; the scene was never really over until the aftermath had been dealt with. When Dettlaff opened his eyes and started to look vaguely alarmed, Regis simply held him tighter. He could feel his lover shaking a bit, as adrenaline started to slip away.

“ Trust me, love. Let it go.”

Dettlaff buried his face into Regis’ neck. For a while he tried to hold on to whatever was giving him a semblance of control, but then it shattered. He drew in a shuddering breath, and Regis felt hot tears against his skin. He kissed Dettlaff’s hair.

“ It’s alright, it’s alright. I’m here.”

Dettlaff fell apart. Regis could tell this had been a long time coming, and didn’t even try to guess what was behind it in its entirety. He simply held Dettlaff, murmuring soothing nonsense and repeating the three words he had wanted to say for weeks.

Little by little, the sobs evened out, and finally Dettlaff pulled back and wiped his face. Regis saw mortification creep in along the edges, and he brushed a kiss against his lips.

“ It’s completely normal,” he said. Dettlaff’s mouth fell open, and he seemed to forget about his worry for a second.

Regis smiled as gently as his tattered heart allowed. “Your reaction was completely normal, love. It’s a physical reaction to the adrenaline, coupled with the release of emotional tension.”

Dettlaff sighed, but for once he seemed ready to accept Regis’ words at face value. He sagged against Regis and a small smile crept on his lips.

“ I’m okay.”

“ Did you like it?”

Dettlaff nodded without any hesitation. His smile grew happier.

“ This is new to me. But yes.”

“ You did so well,” Regis sighed, happiness rushing through his head as he allowed warmth to overtake him. “I loved seeing you like that.”

“ You said you’ve done this before?” Dettlaff asked.

“ I have,” Regis nodded. He felt a familiar sorrow threaten him, but he tempered it by calling out the good memories about his relationship with Camilla. Despite everything, they had been happy for a while. She had helped Regis find himself in a way that had previously felt impossible, and he had dragged her through a lot of family drama; they had held each other aloft during some hard times.

“ I used to have a partner who liked to submit. We explored this together, until… until things fell apart.” Regis swallowed. “I have never been able to play casually, not properly at least. I need to know my partners feel safe.”

“ I felt safe,” Dettlaff said immediately. “I don’t know how to continue from here, but it felt too good to ignore.”

Regis pressed closer to him. His heart felt laid bare, but in a good way; there wasn’t anything of consequence his lover – no – his  _ partner _ didn’t know about him any longer. For the first time in years, Regis felt like someone was seeing him. Not just the paper-thin image he presented to the outside world in order to do his job, but something that had depth.

“ We can continue,” Regis said. “I’d love to.”

They fell into a doze after that, both of them happy to sort through their thoughts in silence. Dettlaff fell back asleep, and Regis spent the time stroking his hair and thinking about how his life had turned upside down in nine months.

His quiet, simple existence had been tipped over when he had walked into Dettlaff. It was scary, but compared to the bleakness that had sapped his strength previously, Regis knew he wouldn’t go back. No matter how badly his conscience nagged at him, he wouldn’t be strong enough to walk away. Not when Dettlaff wanted to have him, because it was one thing to nurse a crush from afar and to come face to face with the reality of love; it wasn’t simple, and it wasn’t even meant to be.

 


	2. Particularities

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of a follow-up for chapter 1.
> 
> Something happier for a change, because happy fucking is my jam.

As he was picking up groceries, the package caught Regis’ eye. His hand, which had been reaching for the toothpaste, halted. For a few seconds he just stared at the unassuming little box, and then smiled to himself. He picked up the toothpaste, and after a second’s hesitation, let the lube follow it to the basket. The smile lingered on his face as he found the rest of the things on his list.

At the checkout Regis tried to wrap his head around his life. He was feeling – happy, which in itself was unusual. But it was a calm sort of happiness, and not the kind of fleeting, dampened joy he had grown accustomed to. This had weight and substance, and it lingered instead of evaporating after the initial brush.

It had been more than a decade since Regis had last been in a relationship. Learning to be with another person again was slow going, and doubly so when it came to two persons who had both lived alone for a long while. Learning where the sharp edges were was one thing, but even day to day life was undergoing a change: a mundane day transformed into something else simply because there was a possibility of sharing the evening hours with someone.

Regis had been surprised to discover how gladly he welcomed Dettlaff into his home to simply exist in the same space with him. There was something comforting in his presence, even if the most they interacted was a tangling of their feet on the sofa as they worked on their own things; Dettlaff grading essays or reading something, and Regis writing his notes.

The cashier didn’t bat an eye at the lube, and Regis concluded she probably saw so many weird things in her job this didn’t even register. He paid and took his things, allowing his feet to carry him out of the shop at a leisure pace. It was Friday, and he had nothing planned for the weekend. Dettlaff had also forced him to stop working on Saturdays for the most part, so Regis was in the process of trying to find other things to occupy his time with.

He had always liked reading, and now he was trying to expand his taste. Dettlaff had done his best to introduce him to interesting authors, but Regis was enjoying wandering into a library or a book shop without a clue what he was looking for. He had been working through some long-ignored classics, on account of being in a relationship with a literature researcher, but he was coming to the conclusion that newer titles interested him much more.

The thought of Dettlaff brought another smile to his lips. The week had been busy, and Regis was tempted to call his partner to see if they could meet during the weekend. Their mutual existence was becoming more effortless, and dating someone who understood the way the university worked made it easier for both of them.

Regis dialed the familiar number when he got home. Dettlaff answered his phone after two rings.

“Hello, Regis.” The doctor heard the smile in his voice.

“Hi. Are you still working?”

“Perish the thought.”

“So that’s a yes. Remember what you told _me_ about overtime?” Regis felt his smile stretch into a grin as he sat down in his kitchen.

“I do,” Dettlaff laughed. “I was thinking about calling you, as a matter of fact. What are you doing today?”

“Nothing important. Would you like to come over?”

“I would.”

After they hung up, Regis sat with his chin in his hands, watching a magpie jump around the yard. His apartment was on the second floor, and the kitchen window offered a view to the park across the street. He had watched the local pride parade host a picnic there in June, and wondered whether he would feel like participating in the future; if Dettlaff felt like it was something he would like to do. Another thing on the list of possible future discussions.

Regis had never paid much attention to personal labels in his past, but now that he was confronted with the reality, he had started to wonder about them. He had no clue whether he should call himself gay, bi, or something else altogether. Attraction to men was new in a sense that only now was he equipped to acknowledge it; he had a creeping suspicion it had been there for a lot longer than originally assumed, buried under the debris of his past.

Dating a man brought some unpleasant realities to his life, and to Dettlaff’s as well. Going out together was always a question of how they should act; how much closeness could be passed off as platonic, should someone see them, or god forbid, ask; and what exactly they thought of being officially together, and hypothetically someday being open about it.

Regis had thought it would be all the same to him, but then he had started to hesitate. He was due to start working as a surgeon again in the fall, and coming out right before starting a new job felt like… not necessarily a bad idea, but an added difficulty. He didn’t know how these things should be done, and rushing into something that big made Regis apprehensive. Not least because it would affect Dettlaff as well.

His partner had secured a three-year teaching researcher job at the faculty. He was well-known and liked by his colleagues and the undergrads. Regis hated the idea of doing anything that would endanger the job Dettlaff loved so much, and for which he had worked so hard. Regis wanted to be a source of safety and love to him, not a hindrance to his career.

Regis had spent several evenings online, just reading up about sexuality, gender, and the associated social issues. He was coming to see that whether he wanted it or not, his relationship would never be non-political or noncontroversial to some people. It was a thing born out of love and mutual trust, but the rest of the world would always see it first as a sample of same-sex couples. When Regis had kissed Dettlaff, he had never imagined he’d be forced to confront his own expectations about things like general feeling of security, and privacy concerning simple things like holding hands.

Regis sighed as he stood up. The doorbell rang just as he did, and he smiled.

Dettlaff greeted him with a gentle smile. He closed the door and let Regis back him into it, because this part was, and would remain, easy and entirely theirs. Regis kissed his lover, enjoying the strong embrace and the way Dettlaff relaxed, until his lips were pink and his eyes narrowed with laughter.

“Hi,” he said when they finally parted. “Miss me?”

“You know I did,” Regis chuckled. He was finding it easier to be blunt and honest about intimacy, if only because it usually made Dettlaff blush. The younger man was not used to being told he was loved, and Regis wanted to spend the rest of his days coming up with new ways to spell it out. Something about the surprising shyness Dettlaff carried told Regis his past had likely not been easy, but he hadn’t yet come up with a natural way to talk about it.

Dettlaff gave him a small, pleased smile. He was every bit as intense as a partner as he was in other aspects of his life. Regis was coming to love him all the more for it, because he never had to worry whether his partner thought this as important as he did.

“You said you have had a long week?” Regis asked, dipping his hands under Dettlaff’s shirt and caressing his sides. Getting to touch was intoxicating, and all the little ways his lover enjoyed it made it so, so good. When Regis could feel Dettlaff against himself, all his hesitation melted away.

Dettlaff arched into the touch, his eyes glinting knowingly. “Quite. I take it you have something planned?”

“Nothing special,” Regis grinned, tugging the man closer and running his hands up his back. “Just feeling very affectionate at the moment.”

He pressed a kiss under Dettlaff’s ear, enjoying the tickle of his hair. Regis loved Dettlaff’s hair, how the smooth, combed-back look would explode the moment you ran your hands through it, leaving it a mess of curls. Regis felt privileged to see him like that, because he realized it was yet another mask for the public. The curls made Dettlaff look younger.

Dettlaff hummed, allowing his eyes to slip closed as he tilted his head and buried fingers into Regis’ hair. “I was hoping you’d say that. Bed?”

Having sex with another man was and wasn’t similar to any other kind of sex, Regis had found out. Like any sex, intimacy and patience spelled everything out, but unlike with a woman, Regis was finding it easier to let go of any preconceived notions; sex was becoming much more than the actual coitus, because there were so much you could do with your hands, mouth, and words. Having stepped into a totally foreign place, both of them had been forced to learn new things.

Regis slotted himself between Dettlaff’s spread legs and bent down to kiss him. His lover rocked his hips upwards and made a small, happy noise at the back of his throat. Feeling him slowly grow hard was such a turn on, Regis mused as they moved against each other. He was causing it, and the knowledge was heady in its simplicity. Regis trusted in their relationship, but couldn’t help wondering about his luck every single time they came together.

Regis smiled into a kiss, reaching to brush his fingertips against Dettlaff’s erection. The reaction was immediate, an enthusiastic grin and tightening of the hands on his hips. He repeated the caress before pulling back.

“You know, I was thinking about your earlier request,” Regis said in a low voice. His fingers slid further, teasing the delicate skin of inner thigh, and just when they brushed against an even more sensitive spot, Dettlaff’s eyes lit up. A shuddering breath left him, and then he grinned. Excitement was making him flush.

“Yes?” he asked, and his enthusiasm was so apparent Regis felt the last doubt evaporate. They would manage it together.

Regis had done other kind of research, too. Searching about anal sex had felt vaguely dirty, but he was glad for it now. Knowing how to proceed, mixed with the way Dettlaff licked his lips and held on to him, was making Regis’ body hum in delight.

“You need to tell me if I do something you don’t like,” Regis said as he retrieved the lube. “Unless you’d prefer doing this the other way round?”

“No, I want you to-” Dettlaff said, biting his lip as he blushed. “I’d like you to do it.”

Regis kissed him, massaging his thigh and taking his sweet time. Once Dettlaff’s breathing grew shallow again, he uncorked the lube and poured some over his fingers, rubbing them together to warm it. Then he reached down, and begun to massage his lover, reaching further down. Regis kept looking up, and Dettlaff met his eyes despite still blushing. His mouth opened in a silent _oh_ as Regis continued to tease him, and a trickle of precome made it clear he was enjoying this.

The second Regis slowly, carefully pushed a finger in, Dettlaff’s head fell back and he exhaled, closing his eyes and grinning. Regis moved the finger in and out slowly, still looking for any signs of discomfort. When Dettlaff canted his hips up, Regis let out a laugh. His own body relaxed, and at the heels came arousal, strong and affectionate.

“It feels good,” Dettlaff said, voice catching. “Go on.”

Regis smiled, his own cock throbbing. Dettlaff felt impossibly tight around his finger, but when he finally pushed a second one in, his lover’s body accepted it easily. The breach punched a moan from Dettlaff.

“Gods,” he panted. His hand drifted towards his cock, and Regis bent down to kiss his hip.

“You’re really liking this.” Regis smiled, his heart swelling. Dettlaff’s eyes were bright and eager when he nodded.

“Touch yourself,” Regis murmured. “I love seeing you like this.”

Regis twisted his fingers slightly just as Dettlaff wrapped a loose hand around himself, and suddenly his hips jerked and he moaned. A second later his eyes flew open and a breathless grin overtook his face.

“Do that again,” he pleaded, and Regis curved his fingers, searching, and then his lover bucked again, a string of “oh gods, oh, oh” spilling from his lips. Nothing could have prepared Regis to seeing his lover like this, spread out under him and writhing, sweat glistening on his skin in the evening sunlight. He had read about how good doing this could feel, but seeing it was a different story. He kept chasing that, until Dettlaff actually stopped stroking himself and simply leaned back. His cock was swollen and glistening; seeing it sent another stab of heat through Regis.

“I love you,” Regis murmured, and as he carefully pushed in a third finger he felt Dettlaff clench around him. He stalled, waiting, but then he saw the gleeful expression in Dettlaff’s eyes, and had to suppress a groan of his own.

Gods, he wasn’t going to last long, if his partner insisted on doing that.

“It’s ok,” Dettlaff said, his voice constricted with pleasure. “I want you in.”

“Are you sure?” Regis smiled, fucking his fingers in and out, but he was mostly torturing himself now. Dettlaff felt relaxed, and his cock was flushed red where it strained against his stomach.

“Regis,” Dettlaff huffed, twitching when Regis brushed his fingers against the nerve bundle. “Please, I want to feel you.”

Regis bit back a moan and pulled his fingers out. He squeezed more lube over them and stroked it over his own length, shuddering at the contact. Then he cast yet another ascertaining glance at Dettlaff, who answered by lifting an eyebrow. Regis laughed and positioned himself, body singing at finally getting closer to his partner. Then he slowly pushed in.

He didn’t get more than the tip inside when Dettlaff moaned, covering his mouth. His eyes were wide, and Regis bit his lip to stay still. He felt like he was on fire, and the minimal contact was already driving him crazy.

“Come on, come on,” Dettlaff murmured in a thick voice, and reached to tug Regis closer by the hip. He slid the rest of the way in, burying his face into Dettlaff’s neck. Strong legs framed him, and the rest of the world faded away.

It was too much, too good. Hot and tight, slippery,  and much more intimate than anything Regis had ever done. Regis drew in a deep breath, and feared he would just  fall apart. Dettlaff was holding on to him, his breathing heavy and his body so, so alive under Regis’ hands.

Regis drew back and took in the sight, the flushed cheeks and the incredulous grin, and his heart tugged almost violently.

_I’ll find every way to love you, I swear_ , was what Regis didn’t say. He started to move instead, slow and deep, and fought back a sob. It was so damn good, and watching Dettlaff’s face contort with pleasure made Regis want to drag this on for ever.  He wanted to take his lover, his partner, apart and then build him back up, because this sheer intimacy was drowning them both.

“How do you feel?” Regis asked, his voice slipping into a lower register. He kept moving, the pace slow and gentle, and Dettlaff answered by clenching around him.

“Gods, you feel so good,” Dettlaff panted. His hand drifted back to his cock, and a hiss escaped his lips as he started to finally stroke himself. 

“Can you go harder?” he asked after a second. A small smirk curled his lips. “Please?”

Regis growled, and started to fuck him with a quicker pace. He tried to be mindful not to hurt his lover, but going by the way Dettlaff started to moan his worries were superfluous. The younger man abandoned his attempts to stay silent, and Regis drank in the sounds he made, the way it was all feeling, and then Dettlaff let out a ragged, happy sob as he came, coming in thick spurts and tightening around Regis.

Regis gasped as he slowed down, and was just about to pull out, when Dettlaff grabbed him by hips.

“Go on,” he gasped. “Please – I want you to come inside me.”

The rest of the words disappeared into an enthusiastic groan as Regis resumed fucking into him. He knew he wouldn’t last more than a handful of seconds, because something about Dettlaff’s request was clawing at him, making a fierce adoration ignite inside him. He wanted to come inside his lover, to lay claim to him.

Regis bent down, and as he felt his cock give a twitch, he dragged teeth along Dettlaff’s ear. “You’re mine, and I love you.”

He choked as he came, the pleasure blinding him. He was aware of Dettlaff whimpering under him, holding tight to him and locking him in place with his feet.  Hot, pulsating pleasure mixed with  the possessive rush , and when Regis finally went slack, he  barely  managed to slip out and collapse down.

They la id there, panting and filthy, cum and sweat mixing, and Regis distantly thought he wouldn’t change a thing.  He would take it all, the mess and the aftermath, if he would be allowed to hold on to this.

“I love you too,” Dettlaff grunted as he finally rolled around and hugged him close. “And I have no idea why I have never done that before.”

“That good?” Regis laughed, brushing the mess of black curls back from Dettlaff’s forehead.

“Better,” Dettlaff grinned, no longer shy about having enjoyed himself. “It’s incredible. I thought I would go crazy when you kept teasing me. I had to stop touching myself to avoid coming too early.”

“I wasn’t teasing, I was just doing what I read was considered good preparation,” Regis frowned, trying to hold back the warm glow of smug happiness.

“Wait, you actually read about this?” Dettlaff asked, squinting at Regis, who looked away and pursed his lips.

“Well. Yes,” he finally confessed. Dettlaff let out a laughter, before kissing him deeply.

“I like the idea that you’ve spent so much time thinking about fucking me,” Dettlaff said, his grin softening a bit. “And I have no complaints. Although,” he went on, glancing at the bed, “you may be in need of a change of sheets, I’m afraid.”

“Entirely worth the trouble,” Regis grinned back, relaxing against him. 


	3. Cycle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 happens some time after Ex Nihilo.
> 
> I'm loving writing Ciri, and this verse offers so much possibilities. <3

Ciri looked at her bike and blew out a breath. As she pinched the empty tire once more, she finally acknowledged her surrogate father’s point about how insisting on biking everywhere in winter was maybe not the wisest of decisions. Especially in December, when the weather could do what it was currently doing: shifting from cold and dry to cold and wet in a matter of minutes. Sleet was starting to dribble from the sky, and Ciri dug out her phone in defeat.

Geralt answered after four rings.

“ Hiya, brat.”

“ Hi, you were right,” Ciri said.

Geralt laughed. “Yeah, I usually am. About what?”

“ My bike is not going to take me home and I’ve ended up in a place where the buses don’t go.”

“ Crap. Are you okay?” Geralt sobered instantly.

“ I am,” Ciri said quickly, “just blew out both tires on crushed stone.”

“ Ciri,” Geralt sighed, equally worried and amused.

“ I know,” Ciri groaned. “It’s starting to rain sleet, can you please come get me and my unfaithful mount?”

Geralt sighed again. “Would that I could. I’m out of town until tomorrow night. Remember that field drill I mentioned?”

Ciri smacked her forehead. She had completely forgotten Geralt had told her he’d be away the whole week. She had been preoccupied with… something. A small inner voice saw it fit to remind her of her habit of ignoring what the people around her said, and she crushed it without mercy. It had been getting bad again, and she didn’t have the time or energy to deal with that particular demon.

“ Can you get a taxi?” Geralt asked, worry coloring his voice. Someone shouted his name from the background, the sound carrying over the phone, and Geralt answered him; he’d be right there, calm the fuck down.

“ I don’t have my wallet with me,” Ciri said, and now she was starting to feel miserable. The sleet was sticking to her clothes, and soon she’d be wet and cold.

“ Hey, Ciri, it’s alright,” Geralt said at once, hearing the sad lilt in her voice. “I have an idea. Do you know where you are?”

“ At Maple Street, in the northern suburb,” Ciri said.

“ Stay where you are,” Geralt said, smile in his voice. “It’ll be alright.” Ciri heard him cover the phone with his hand and fling an insult at the person who kept pestering him.

Geralt’s voice returned: “Can you hang on for twenty minutes?”

“ Of course,” Ciri scoffed. She was going to be cold and miserable, but she wouldn’t let Geralt know that.

Geralt chuckled, and Ciri could tell he already knew. “Shoot me a message when your ride gets there.”

“ Wait, who are you going to call?” Ciri asked, confused.

“ Remember telling me about the ugliest car you had ever seen?”

***

Fifteen minutes later, a car rumbled down the deserted street, the headlights cutting through the merciless sleet. It came to a stop next to her, and the driver’s side door opened.

Ciri had half-expected, half-feared she’d know who would come get her, and her apprehension was confirmed right away. She had last seen the black-haired man at the hospital last summer, and she had caught glimpses of him at the university during the autumn semester, but there had never been a good time to go talk to him. Now she struggled to amalgamate the two images into a real person.

“ Cirilla? Are you alright?” Professor Dettlaff van der Eretein asked, shielding his face from the falling snow.

“ I- Yes. Just a bit wet,” Ciri said, doing her best to hide how cold she was.

The man smiled at her. “Let’s load your bike into the trunk, I already collapsed the back seats.”

Ciri walked her bike to the back of the car, trying to decide what she should call him in her head. She was suddenly feeling shy; the last time they had spoken, she had been riding the edge of hysteria and not really caring how she came across. Now it was different, because she had enrolled in a course he would teach during the next semester. He’d be professor van der Eretein there, but he was also his surrogate father’s partner; whenever Geralt talked about him, he was always Dettlaff.

“ You can call me Dettlaff.”

Ciri looked up and saw he was smiling.

“ I realize we are in an unusual situation, but I’d feel better if we could abandon formalities for the time being.” Dettlaff had a deep voice. His smile seemed a bit shy to her.

“ Alright, but only if you’ll call me Ciri,” she answered. “No one calls me Cirilla.”

“ Regis does, whenever he refers to you,” Dettlaff chuckled. He lifted Ciri’s bike into the trunk and closed the hatch. “Get in, you look like you’re cold.”

The car was toasty, and Ciri felt a violent shudder run through her as she buckled herself in. Dettlaff climbed in and shut the door, and as the light inside went out, she felt herself relax a bit. She’d gotten along with Dettlaff before, this would be fine.

Dettlaff turned the car around, and Ciri stripped off her sodden mittens. Without a word, Dettlaff cranked the heat up, and another shiver went through her.

“ Geralt called me,” Dettlaff said after a small silence. “He knows I have Thursday evenings off, so he asked me to come get you.”

“ I’m sorry,” Ciri mumbled. She didn’t understand where the sudden bout of awkwardness came from, but her tongue felt clumsy inside her mouth. The day had been long, and now she was feeling on edge.

“ No need to apologize,” Dettlaff reassured her. “I’m glad I can help.”

Silence fell again, and Ciri looked through the foggy window. The sleet was coming down hard, covering everything in a soggy blanket. She tried not to worry about her bike, or whether her social clumsiness would make her seem stupid in front of a university professor, or how silly and young she was suddenly feeling.

“ You’re majoring in international relations, right?” Dettlaff asked after a while. His eyes stayed on the road, but as Ciri stole a glance at him, she saw he was looking genuinely interested.

“ Yes. I’m hoping to do a double minor in linguistics and history.” Ciri looked down, wondering whether she should just say what was bothering her.

“ I noticed you’re going to take my language and law course in January,” Dettlaff remarked. “The lists came in today, in fact. To be honest, I was glad to see your name there.”

Ciri looked up, and met Dettlaff’s eyes for a second before he turned his face back towards the treacherous road.

“ You were? Why?” she asked.

“ Geralt talks a lot about you, but he’s been very shy about inviting you over. Both me and Regis have been desperately curious to meet you properly.” He smiled, an expression of amusement and affection. Ciri blinked, still trying to decide which version of the man she should be addressing.

“ I’m not that fascinating.”

Dettlaff smiled. “Oh, I beg to differ. Professor Bloom is a dear friend of mine, and she has been going on and on about a second-year student of hers that keeps getting top marks on all tests. She’s so hard to please it’s a sheer wonder.”

Ciri felt a blush coming and averted her eyes. She fiddled with her sleeves as her mood dampened; her inner voice was screaming at her, telling how she should not feel content. Nothing would last. Another shiver ran up her back, and her head was suddenly feeling stuffy.

That voice had been there when the social services had brought her to Geralt. She had looked at a man who had a fresh scar across his eye, and whom she remembered only vaguely, and she had felt nothing. She had known her papa was somewhere, and that mama was dead; and now she would be left with this stranger who looked at her like she was a bomb about to go off. She had felt nothing for a long while.

And then she had been too much for anyone to handle; the daycare had all but kicked her out, her teachers at school had called her aggressive and unhinged, and she had felt so alone for so long. She had spent years both hating Geralt for taking her away from her parents, and loving him desperately and obsessively for never, ever leaving her alone.

She had been fourteen when Geralt had quite literally dragged her to meet a psychiatrist. The doctor had watched them screaming at each other for a while, and then she had walked over and told Geralt to leave the room. Geralt had looked ready to argue, but for some reason he had bit his lip and went away. Ciri had felt dizzy with dread when the door closed; Geralt had never left her alone before.

The psychiatrist had told Ciri to call her Henna. She had sat down and waited until Ciri followed her example. It had been the start of her resurrection.

Ciri realized she was crying only when Dettlaff pulled off and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She felt the tears run down her cheeks and her nose getting clogged. Then Dettlaff said “it’s alright” as he took her hand, and she broke down. Her chest heaved with sobs as she cried, and Dettlaff just held her without any trace of alarm or disgust. He didn’t say anything, letting the car idle and snow cover the windscreen, until she finally heaved a stuttering breath and the tears ran out.

Dettlaff reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a pack of tissues. Ciri took a handful and blew her nose. She was feeling very empty, but not in the usual echoing, desolate way. This was something akin drawing poison from a wound. It confused her.

Dettlaff turned the wipers on and frowned as they attempted to push away the accumulated snow.

“ Do you go to therapy?” he asked all of a sudden.

Ciri forgot to keep wiping the snot away as she stared at him. Dettlaff met her eyes calmly, waiting for an answer. He was leaning on the steering wheel, and everything about his body language told Ciri he wasn’t even remotely bothered by the topic.

“ What?” she croaked.

“ Geralt once blurted out, quite by accident, that you’ve had some troubles in your past. It feels a bit awkward to know such a thing about you, when we don’t know each other properly.”

Dettlaff fell silent as he looked away, and then he continued, his voice growing a bit quieter: “I’ve been seeing a therapist for four months now,” he said. “I keep wondering how many years I’ve wasted feeling like shit, only because I refused to get help.”

Ciri stared at him. She had heard the worry in Geralt’s voice now and again when he spoke of his partner, but this was different: This was them talking to each other.

“ I do,” she finally said. “I’ve been seeing Henna for six years.” At the corner of her eye, she saw Dettlaff glance at her. “ I’m doing much better nowadays, but sometimes I just… It’s just too much, and I have to let it out,” she added.

Dettlaff smiled as he pulled off the curb again. He was silent for a few minutes, driving through the dark streets.

“ I didn’t mean to pry,” he said suddenly. Ciri saw he was pursing his lips together.

“ I trust you,” she said quietly. Dettlaff frowned, his gaze flickering to her and then back to the road, which was starting to resemble a country road instead of a city lane.

“ I mean… Geralt trusts you, and he doesn’t trust anyone,” Ciri explained.

Dettlaff’s eyes grew soft, and it echoed the love Ciri kept hearing in Geralt’s tone when he could be coaxed to talk about his partners.

She had initially been weirded out by the thought of Geralt having two significant others, but after meeting them and watching the trio interact at the hospital her doubts had evaporated. The heavy sadness her father had been carrying for years vanished as he looked at either of them. The fact that they were such an unlikely combo only added to that.

Regis had been quiet and kind, bordering on shy, and he had done everything in his power to help Ciri during the few horrible days when Geralt had still been under anesthesia. The doctor was also intelligent; he had managed to rope Ciri into an argument about a topic they agreed on, providing her with something else to think about for a few hours. The rest of the time he had simply been there as a comforting presence, always ready to sit with her.

Dettlaff had been more complicated. Ciri knew him from the university, because he was handsome and one of the most popular teachers. The campus was a cesspool of rumors, and professor van der Eretein was the topic of many of them. There were whispers about his relationship status, but no one seemed to know anything for sure. Ciri had initially been confused when she had seen him with Regis, because they seemed like such an unlikely pair.

A few hours after she had met them for the first time, she had seen Dettlaff sitting alone on one of the hospital beds in Geralt’s room. He had been pale, with dark circles around his eyes. His face had been stripped of emotion, and it had reminded Ciri of her own darker times. Regis had entered the room, looking equally exhausted, but Dettlaff’s eyes had regained their color at the sight of him. Regis had sat down next to him without a word, and Ciri had looked away; something about them had made her heart ache.

“ This is your house, right?” Dettlaff’s voice pulled Ciri from her thoughts. She looked up as the car stopped.

“ Yes, this is me,” she said. She realized she was smiling. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Dettlaff smiled back at her. “It was no trouble. Regis is going over his lecture plans, and frankly speaking, listening to that endless muttering can get tiresome.”

Ciri’s laughter bubbled inside her chest, spilling free, and the heaviness within her lifted. Her lungs felts lighter as she clambered out of the car and pulled her bike out from the trunk.

Dettlaff walked her to the door, and extended his hand.

“ It was nice to meet you. We’re going out for dinner on Saturday, would you like to join us?”

Ciri shook his hand and nodded.

“ Does Geralt know you’re inviting me too?” she asked, grinning.

“ No, and I think he will be better off not knowing until then,” Dettlaff said thoughtfully, his smile bordering on a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on Twitter, come scream at/with me! @merulanoir


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